


I come without answers

by dellaxstreet



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Basically Poe has a lot of feelings, Bisexual inner monologue and bonding in space, Character Study, F/M, Gen, M/M, Minor Poe Dameron/Rey, POV Poe Dameron, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 21:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14269668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dellaxstreet/pseuds/dellaxstreet
Summary: There’s a reason Jedi are a bedtime story, Poe thinks; who could look at a thing like this and believe it was an ordinary girl, far from the sands of Jakku where she’d first found a droid?A meditation on Poe meeting and bonding with Rey after TLJ.





	I come without answers

“Rey,” she says, simple.

“I know,” Poe says, because how could he not?

He’d glimpsed her, after the fight that wounded Finn so badly. Standing in the doorway to the med bay, he’d seen her bend to kiss him goodbye, a quiet moment of tenderness he hadn’t wanted to disturb. He’d slipped away to debrief, and by the time he came back to set up a quiet vigil by Finn’s bedside, she was gone.

Rey is, if you listen to the other members of the Resistance, a larger-than-life legend. She’s the girl who rescued herself when they went to bring her back, who picked up a lightsaber that’s more artifact than weapon and successfully fought off Kylo Ren despite who knew what real training. She’s the girl who Chewbacca let pilot _The Milennium Falcon_ of all ships, who helped bring back the map to Luke Skywalker, who’s going after him herself. She’s done a whole collection of things that, when you add them together, make for a great story told in hushed whispers, but not much of a human being.

The first time Poe sees her again, she’s not doing anything to change this impression he has of her. Boulders float in the air all around them, light as a feather, while her hands move outstretched. Her eyes are wide, sweat on her brow the only really human thing about her, that she’s showing how much effort it takes as she guides the rock between the Resistance and salvation safely away. There’s a reason Jedi are a bedtime story, Poe thinks; who could look at a thing like this and believe it was an ordinary girl, far from the sands of Jakku where she’d first found a droid?

Finn barrels eagerly into her arms, and for a moment, Poe misses his presence at his side. That gentle, reassuring touch of one hand sliding down his forearm, that felt like for a moment it might end twining their fingers together, disappears. Relief swamps in against his senses, almost crushing in its weight. He has to correct course quickly, not miss his companion or falter in a step. All he can do is get everyone they have left on the ship.

So later, once they’re safely inside, Rey finds him. And that’s when he finally gets a good look at her. She smiles, green eyes lighting up in her delicate face. There’s something almost childlike there, an innocence when she brightens, offset by the flinty light with which she studies him all the same. He sees what everyone else must have seen, looking at her. Hope and determination, stubbornness and survival, lean muscle and sharp eyes, all of it adding up to a young woman who can be light as air but is not to be underestimated. He wants to know who’s been feeding her, she’s so slight, and yet he also knows in that moment that she’d tell him she feeds herself, thank you very much.

“I know,” he says, and does he? Does he really? He thinks he might. He knows that to Finn she is an anchor point, a true friend and guiding star around whom he has built some sense of himself and his purpose. To the Resistance, she is hope incarnate, because any Jedi is a miracle, and oh, do they need miracles. They’d all give their left arms for something real, if it was also miraculous. To the enemy, she is dangerous, in every breath she takes.

He wants to know who she is to herself. Not to everyone who looks at her and assesses or calculates or prays, but to the sun and the stars. She smiles brilliantly at his words, like she isn’t expecting to be acknowledged so easily, but what else could he possibly say? She is self-evident.

“Finn might be occupied a while,” he adds, finding a safe topic of conversation in the presence of the man their lives have in common. Turning, Poe nods at where Finn is rummaging for something to drape over Rose, who sleeps the untroubled sleep of a body trying to heal itself.

Rey’s gaze settles over him again, and he can feel it sear through, somehow. It’s like she can see far too much of him all at once, not so much that she’s trying as that it comes naturally, and unlike most people, who would look away, she just keeps meeting his eyes. Uncomfortably, Poe is reminded of an interrogation chair and the sensation like his mind was trying to unmake itself, pain echoing in places there should have been no room to ache. Is this what it’s like, when someone with the Force looks into you and doesn’t dig their fingernails in to get at what they want?

“He’ll be back,” she says, with absolute confidence.

Poe wonders irrationally if somehow, she can see the niggling sensation like faint acid in the back of his throat, doubt and jealousy wound up together at the sight of Finn and Rose together. He knows she can’t know, and yet he still wonders.

“That was impressive, what you did,” he adds, feeling the need to change the topic of conversation. He can see a smile tug at the corners of her mouth, eyes lighting up a little bit.

“Being a Jedi isn’t _all_ lifting rocks,” Rey answers him, with humor in her voice. He’s not sure he knows the whole punchline, like there’s some private portion of the joke which she isn’t sharing with him. Reaching out, she claps him on the arm and slides past him, moving toward Leia instead.

Where her fingers brush, his skin burns. Poe finds himself following her with his gaze, curiosity getting the better of him until he decides it’s better to just leave it be. He’ll have plenty of time to get to know this bright-eyed girl, and she’s right, anyway. Gaze sliding to where Finn perches by his fallen friend, he exhales a slow breath. Eventually, Finn will come back.

 

* * *

 

_The question doesn’t matter any more, he doesn’t know what words are, only what pain is. Agony sears through every inch of him, like nothing he’s ever felt before, he has to be ripping at the seams… He can’t give this man what he wants, but he’s not even sure what that is, only that he wants this to end… he can’t fail… he can’t tell them about…_

Small, calloused hands grip Poe’s shoulders, shaking him from his dream. His brow drips, his hairline damp with sweat, as he jerks back from the person who woke him, blinking furiously and swallowing around a raw throat. Startled, he looks up to see that it’s Rey bending over him, her brow furrowed in worry as she studies him.

“You were screaming,” she informs him matter-of-factly.

Gulping air into his lungs, he tries to get his racing heartbeat under control. The nightmares haven’t been as bad lately, at least not the ones about this. There are other dreams now, ones that come to mingle with his old fears, the faces of dead men whom he’d failed twisted with the vacuum of space.

“I’m fine,” he says, because that’s what he always says. Poe Dameron is the man who can weather anything, didn’t you know? He came back from an extended torture vacation inside the First Order and a crash-landing that nearly killed him in a junk ship he stole off the surface of Jakku, so eager to jump back in that they put him on the front lines all over again. He’s the man who hits the ground running no matter what, equal parts confidence and die-with-your-boots-on determination.

The thing is, Poe Dameron might have heard a lot of things about Rey, but judging by the look she gives him, she doesn’t believe any of the things she’s heard about him.

“If that’s the lie you want to tell,” Rey says, shrugging one shoulder in such a casual gesture that he wonders for a moment if she’s going to drop the subject, leave him be. This corner of floor is about as comfortable as he could possibly make it, and Poe’s game to try going back to sleep, even if he’s pretty sure he’s not going to be able to actually get there. But then she turns that gaze on him again, as insightful as it is unsettling. “I think about it, too.”

“Think about what?” he asks carefully.

“What it’s like, having _him_ inside your head.” There can be no doubt in that moment that she’s talking about Kylo Ren. Something about the way she says ‘him’, like she’s tasting the syllable and can’t decide if it’s sweet or poison, practically screams it. “I had him in mine, too. It’s like having hot sand poured inside your skull.”

Poe, who has never before considered that particular description of the awful, unforgettable sensation which is being tortured by someone gifted in the Force, has to agree that Rey has summed it up almost perfectly. “Any idea how long it takes before we get to forget it ever happened?”

Something flickers in her expression then, a deep sadness passing over her features for a split second. He can’t rightly say what it’s about, only that she doesn’t leave it bared to the world for long before she’s pulling in a deep breath and moving from her crouch beside him so that she can stretch out along a section of the floor beside him. “I don’t know. I hope one day you do.”

Poe blinks at her as she decides unceremoniously that she’s apparently going to join him in sleep, though the compact length of her body doesn’t quite touch him as she stretches out catlike against the ground. Then she’s looking at him again, and this time, he does understand what it is she’s saying. Her eyes say _you shouldn’t have to be alone if you don’t want to,_ and he nods, to say that he’s all right with this.

“I hope you do too,” he murmurs, into the darkness.

In the morning, he wakes up to find that Rey’s rolled into him, leaving them a tangle of limbs that’s difficult to extract himself from with any dignity. For a long moment, Poe simply lies still, letting the reality of it wash over him. He couldn’t say why, exactly, he trusts her, except that there’s so much knowing in her eyes for somebody so young. That, and she understands what it is that stalks him when sleep comes calling.

Carefully, so that he doesn’t dislodge her, he gets to his feet, padding away down the corridor of the ship. He already has one person whose company lays him bare, he thinks; what in the galaxy is he going to do with two?


End file.
